


Phoboshop

by NoiraKai



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 07:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoiraKai/pseuds/NoiraKai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Birthday, GS! Abel and Phobos drunkenly make out and stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoboshop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coreaneggroll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coreaneggroll/gifts).



> For glassstrawberries on tumblr / coreaneggroll on AO3, who wanted Abel and Phobos drunken makeouts with a smattering of Cain and Deimos. I hope you like it bb!

Abel wasn't sure how it happened, exactly. He'd been sitting on the couch, with Phobos on his right, and Cain propped up on the arm of the couch to his left, when Phobos got out his tablet and insisted on sharing his vacation pictures with everyone.

Pretty soon, Cain wandered off... and then Porthos wandered off, and then Keeler wandered off, and then Encke wandered off... And the next thing he knew, Abel found himself stuck, a one-person audience for a seemingly endless slideshow of Phobos standing in front of various tourist attractions.

“Oh! And here's some pictures of the time I went with my best friend to Washington, D.C.!” Phobos said, just as excitedly as he had been when he'd introduced the set of pictures from his family's vacation in Bora Bora, and then his school trip to the Swiss Alps, and the time he went with his ex-boyfriend to Las Vegas, and his parents' graduation present, which was a triple-threat tour of New York, New Paris, and New Tokyo... it seemed Phobos had really gotten around before he joined the Alliance.

Abel hadn't had any way to graciously escape, except to make an excuse, to get himself and Phobos more beer. But every time that he left, he felt bad, and went back and sat with Phobos again anyway. And as a result, the two of them had ended up drinking a _lot_ of beer. And now, Abel wasn't sure he could even get up if he wanted to. His eyes drifted helplessly around the room, looking for someone to save him. But no one would meet his eyes.

Worst. Party. Ever.

“Here's one of me at the Lincoln Memorial... and here's one of me at the Air and Space Museum... and here's one of me in front of the Capital Building!”

Abel was profoundly disinterested now, but didn't really have the energy or the heart to tell Phobos that he'd lived in D.C. for the majority of his life, and had gone to the Air and Space Museum nearly every Saturday growing up. His NASA-engineered pen that could write in space had been one of his prized possessions, until Cain told him that the early Russian cosmonauts had quickly figured out they could just use pencils.

“Oh! And here's one of me with President Cho! I can't believe I got to meet her!” Phobos said, entirely too cheerfully. Abel got a quick glance before the picture changed, and noticed something familiar.

“Wait,” Abel said, after what felt like an eternity. “Go back?”

Phobos shifted towards him on the couch. “Hmm?”

“Go back to that picture of you and President Cho.”

“Oh... this one?” Phobos said, and flipped the screen back to the requested photo.

Abel squinted. “That'sss... not real!” he accused with a slur.

“What?! Of course it's real!” Phobos protested, hugging his tablet tightly to his chest and looking entirely offended.

“No...” Abel said, thinking intensely for a lifetime. “I've seen that picture before! You... you photo-shopped it!”

“Uh!” Phobos squeaked, his countenance shifting from offended to utterly _scandalized_. “I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing! You're just jealous that you didn't get to meet the President yourself.”

“Phobos, I _have_ met the President. A few times, actually.”

“What? _When?!”_ Phobos squeaked again.

“My dad is a senator, remember? He and President Cho are actually friends.” He pointed at the tablet stuck to Phobos's chest. “That photo was on his website. You stole it from my dad's website and photo-shopped yourself over him!”

“D-did not!” Phobos stammered.

“Then let me see,” Abel quickly demanded, falling onto Phobos and grabbing for the tablet.

“No!” Phobos pulled the tablet away, shielding it with his body.

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on, Phobos, let me see!”

“No! Get off me!”

“Not until you show me that picture!”

 

“…”

The next thing Abel knew, he was straddling Phobos's lap, and Phobos was looking up at him like he'd never seen a face before, dropping the suddenly-forgotten tablet on the couch beside him.

“What are you looking at?” Abel jeered, a little nastier than he'd meant to.

“Your eyes,” Phobos said with quiet surprise.

Abel accidentally looked down towards Phobos's crotch, and then back up at his face. “What about 'em?” he asked defensively.

“They're... different.”

“S-so?”

“Soo.... they're pretty. I never noticed them before,” Phobos answered with a shy smile.

“They're _defective,”_ Abel moaned drunkenly.

“Noooo! They're not defective!” the other blond insisted. “It's cool that you're... u-- u-- unique...”

“Really?!” Abel said, leaning in towards Phobos's face more, to pressure him to tell the truth.

“Yeah! Of course!”

“I always thought...” Abel said with a pout, and then had to start over because he forgot what he always thought. “I always thought you and Porthos didn't like me... because I was different.”

“No, of course not!” Phobos put comforting hands on Abel's shoulders. “ _That's_ not why we don't like you... we don't like you because you're better than us. And you _know_ it. And you _act_ like it.”

This was obviously the most important revelation that had ever been revealed in the history of revealing things. “Really? You... you really mean that?!” Abel implored in earnest.

“Of course! If you weren't so stuck up and unapproachable we'd totally let you be friends with us,” Phobos said sincerely.

“I'm not... I'm not stuck up... I'm just shy,” Abel explained. “I just tend to assume that people don't like having me around.”

“Tsk! Awww...” Phobos cooed, petting Abel's hair, and not really commenting one way or the other, Abel noticed somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I like having your legs around my waist,” Phobos blurted out quietly.

Abel's eyebrows shot up as he looked at the other blond, just now remembering where he was. Phobos's hand slid around to the back of Abel's head, and he pulled Abel forward by the hair, until their mouths smushed together.

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Dude. This is the best. Party. Ever!” Cain declared, as he strutted through the hallway towards the living room, with Deimos under one arm and a red solo cup in the other.

Deimos looked up at him skeptically.

“I _know_... I know I say that every time,” Cain said in answer to Deimos's unspoken comment. “But. I _reallllly_ mean it this time. Strip Twister is my new favorite game.”

Cain followed Deimos into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as the other man got a refill from the chilled keg of beer on the floor. “I mean, did you _see_ how flexible Keeler was?” he muttered with a wicked grin.

Deimos just gave him a look that was part “oh yeah,” and part “oh, stop it, you,” and walked back into the living room.

Cain refilled his beverage, and walked back into the living room, but Deimos was standing in the way, giving him a blank expression that reminded Cain he was never going to play strip poker with Deimos ever, ever again.

“What.” Cain turned his head slowly to the side in suspicion.

Deimos only quirked up an eyebrow, as if he didn't know what Cain was talking about.

“What's wrong?” Cain growled with narrowed eyes, and walked closer to the shorter fighter, who put his hands and his red solo cup up in front of him, and frantically shook his head.

“The fuck's with you, Myshonok?” Cain said and leaned to look around the shorter man. But Deimos only leaned with him, mirroring his movements so Cain couldn't see. Finally Cain grabbed him with one hand, smushing Deimos's face to his own chest to keep him from interfering. Never mind that the tiny fighter loved to smell him... that was probably going to happen at some point in the evening anyway, so he might as well get something out of it.

Cain's eyes shot open as the couch came into view. And there was Abel, straddling Phobos's lap and sticking his tongue down his throat, the two blonds' hands everywhere at once, their hips almost imperceptibly rocking against each other.

Cain was frozen in place for a few seconds, as Deimos struggled to get out of his grasp. He let Deimos go at the same time he took in a sharp, displeased breath through his nose.

“Deimos,” Cain said flatly, and then he rubbed his lips together. “This is making me... feel things.”

The silent fighter gave him a pitied look that was part “I tried to stop you,” and “I can't really blame you.”

“I don't like it,” Cain said in quiet defeat.

There was a slight tug at the hem of Cain's tank top. He turned and looked as Deimos gave him a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth, which he knew was Deimos-speak for, “Forget those two. Let's go out to the car and get high together and maybe take your clothes off, you beautiful hunk of man meat, you.”

Cain took only a second to consider the proposal. “Oh, what the hell,” he said with a smile and a shrug, as he grabbed Deimos gingerly by the elbow and led him towards the door. “They obviously won't miss us.”

 

 

* * *

 

“Mmmmm...” Abel could hardly tell if it was him or Phobos humming, or maybe both, as their tongues firmly slid against each other. He kissed and then gently pulled at Phobos's lip with his teeth.

“Oh, Abel...” Phobos moaned, grabbing at the other man's ass. “You're so... you're so...” But he didn't finish his thought.

Abel pressed his crotch more into Phobos's crotch, just barely grinding against him and making him whimper, as he threaded his fingers into his hair and then caught Phobos's tongue in his teeth this time, softly sucking on it.

“Whu...What?” Abel prodded, as he pulled away and leaned down to suck on Phobos's neck.

“Wait!” Phobos yelped, causing Abel to jump back in surprise. “Y-y-you can't leave any marks. Deimos might s-see them!”

Abel raised a slow, disbelieving eyebrow as he looked into Phobos's light blue eyes. “Deimos? What do you care if Deimos sees...” he said dismissively as he leaned back down, pulling the collar of the other blonds' shirt away to suck at his collarbone.

“Oh... yeah... right...” Phobos said with a nervous laugh, and leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.

Abel made a trail of wet sloppy kisses up Phobos's neck until he got to his earlobe, which he playfully flicked with his tongue. Then he lay down on his back, pulling Phobos on top of him, and pushing their mouths together again. Phobos kissed him, deep and demanding, as their legs tangled together, and Abel's hands slid into the back pockets of Phobos's jeans.

 

 

* * *

 

“Mmmmmm...” Abel groaned as he woke up the next morning, straining against the twin sensations of a pounding ache in his head and a crushing weight pushing him into the couch. He squinted his eyes and strained his neck to look down, and saw nothing but a mop of messy blond hair.

“Shit,” he tried to say, but nothing came out, his mouth too dry to make any kind of determinable noise. “Shit!” he tried again. At that moment it suddenly occurred to him, that he was no longer wearing a shirt.

“Morning, princess.”

Abel practically jumped straight out of his skin then, pushing the only just-waking Phobos off of him and sitting up on the couch, looking with deer-in-the-headlights eyes across the room, to where Cain was laying back in a lazyboy chair with Deimos draped over him.

“Abel?!” Phobos squeaked. “What –- what happened?”

“Shhhhh.... _oh god...”_ Abel held one hand up to his face to shield his throbbing skull from Phobos and his voice, and the broken memories from the night before. Just as futilely, he wrapped his other arm around his naked chest.

“Oh! Deimos!” Phobos exclaimed. “I'm sorry, shnookums! I got sooo drunk!”

Abel turned his head to look at Phobos, not quite believing what he was hearing. “Deimos? _Shnookums?”_

“Haha, now _here's_ a moment that we should preserve for the ages,” Cain laughed.

Abel whipped his head back over to look at Cain. He was holding Phobos's tablet up in his free hand and grinning madly.  


“Cain!!! NO!!!” Abel shouted in vain.

Click!


End file.
